Life intersecting art…

Category Archives: studio

I’ve created several distinct bodies of work over the last couple of decades, and yet, when I am making a change, or even just a shift, in my work, it is still both uncomfortable and exciting. It’s easy to embrace the excitement, but I still want to hide the fear and resistance. So here I am, outing myself (and maybe starting a conversation, see below). Sometimes the fear and resistance feels like bees buzzing under my skin, and other times it feels like a dull wall in my mind. But I really think the fear is a good sign, and that I might want to be concerned if it went away completely, because it’s an indication that I’m working against comfort and toward something new.

The process takes persistence, because usually I try a lot of things that don’t work. Sometimes I rewind and start over again, and other times I keep pushing forward, even if I don’t like it, just to see if something new will come from it. I’ve discovered and refined processes and techniques that came originally from making “mistakes”, too, so I try to not think of it that way. I tell myself it’s all just action. Some of it leads to art I like and some of it does not.

The detail above is from a painting that is proving elusive. I just don’t know where it’s going, or what it needs next. I’m trying to find new solutions, and let the Periphery Walks influence this new group of paintings, so I’m trying hard not to indulge in old solutions. That is just too easy. I know if I just trust this process and keep going, the new solutions will arrive.

So that’s it–that’s where I’m at in the studio right now. It’s a bit of a mess, and I’m not sure where I’m going, but I’ll get there. So my question to you is: Do you struggle with starting new bodies of work or do you love it, and in either case, how do you approach it?

*All of these photos were taken in my studio this afternoon, and are a typical snapshot of what it looks like when I have new work developing… Lots of things started, a big sprawling mess, and not a lot finished.

*I started this blog post the other day, and have since then finished a couple of these. If you are interested, check out my Instagram account.

That’s a tall stack of potential. I’m so excited to dig into this bundle of mini-panels. They measure just 6 x 6 inches. Fifty of them. When I first started writing this blog in 2008 (has it really been that long?!), I started a similar project. I’d taken a break from working with encaustic and wanted to start again. How to incubate the new ideas I had in mind?

We had a piece of smooth plywood leftover from a house project, so I asked a friend if he’d cut it up for me on his table saw. The result was 36 eight-inch panels to experiment with. Over the course of working those 36 panels, my ideas were tried, edited, and developed. A whole body of larger works grew out of that series of tiny paintings.

I’ve been drawing experimentally this past year, and am continuing on these panels. Silverpoint and water media on gesso. I’m going to gesso all of them today, and work on all fifty at the same time, rotating around as intuition dictates, and see what happens.

This is a wonderful way to explore a new medium or idea, to play around without committing very much space or time or materials. I highly recommend this approach. Last time I did it, I went from this….

There is, I think, loads of potential in being up to one’s elbows in a good mess. I’m not talking about the kind of mess visited upon you on a late Sunday afternoon when the last thing you want to do is clean up, but a weekend of neglect and fun and living has resulted in sticky mugs adhered to the coffee table and muddy shoes piled by the front door, dirty dishes in the sink, and wild tumbleweeds of dog hair blowing gently along the floor (ahem)…let’s call that a lazy mess.

No, I’m talking about creative mess, which is another thing altogether. Well, it still might result in a pile of dirty sticky coffee cups, yes, but it’s also evidence of being busy and productive, of being in the moment, caught up, and just goingwith it, not stopping to worry about it. There is a kind of bravado to it.

My studio cycles through this state several times a year, the sedimentary clutter building up until I don’t even remember what’s at the bottom, everything covered in a fine coat of graphite and glitter and paint. And where did I put that scraper?!

Things, I admit, can get a little dysfunctional at the tail end of it. Then I’m ready to take a few hours and sift through, wiping things down, putting things away, rediscovering things, rearranging, scraping wax off most surfaces, shepherding spiders out the door.

So, this is a different kind of potential, isn’t it? Like a deep calming breath, a pause. The potential of a clear workbench, organized paints, the windows washed, and the graphite found. (Still need to whitewash that wall, though!)

This morning I walked past my open green waste bin and the discarded flowers that lay at the top caught my eye. I threw them out last night and they were rained on a bit.

If my last post was about looking backward, this one is about looking forward. January has been such a lovely month. I don’t really do new years resolutions, but I usually do a big studio clean, take inventory of my life, and make some plans, set some goals. That sort of thing. So in that spirit, I’ll share some of my thoughts/aspirations for 2014:

Steer myself out of ruts, and try new things. Small things, certainly. Large things, hopefully.

January is just whizzing by me. Surely, time moves faster as you chase it. And I feel as if I have been chasing it, with so much to do, and trying to fit it all in. Sometimes I have to remind myself to just stop, and breathe. And slow down the moment. And pay attention.

For months now, I’ve been simultaneously preparing for war and peace, so to speak. ( I think it’s an Einstein quote, and he actually said, ” You cannot simultaneously prevent and prepare for war.”) For about a year, now, I’ve been going to school part time to complete a certificate in technical writing. I’ve also been trying to increase my hours in the studio, ramping up my practice, trying to make a go of being a full-time artist. The sensible fall back plan, and the big dream. I feel like every day I get up and just throw myself at it all. There is rarely a sense of completion, because there is always something more to do. I just keep setting little goals, and moving forward. Inch. By. Inch.

There are financial pressures. I don’t know if the artwork can answer them. It seems to be gaining traction, but I have to wait and see how it all shakes out. I really want to be able to jump in with both feet into… something. But for now, I must simultaneously prevent and prepare.

Painting and technical writing might seem at odds with one another. And it does feel like I’m living two lives, or preparing for two futures, or even two potential selves, sometimes. Each activity exploits different parts of my personality. But the two things also compliment one another in remarkable ways. When I was working my way through my foundation technical writing courses, I was struck with how the skills I was learning could be directly applied to all of the writing that I am required to do as an artist- statements, bios, website copy, etc. Active voice, defining audience, elegance, efficiency, specific language, direct style. My studio notebook has become my constant companion, and I’ve learned to just get it all down, and edit later. My editing class sharpened my attention and further developed my appreciation for brevity and specificity in my painting practice.

Right now, I’m taking a course in Information Graphics, and I find myself asking different questions in the studio. Questions like “What is the question that the work answers?” and “How do I shape the data to answer the question?”. It’s all pretty interesting stuff.

One of the things I always do in January is clean my studio, and this year was no exception. I also tried to create a “clean” area, over to the right, for a drawing space. I’m trying to have a corner that isn’t covered in wax and paint splatters! (I know–good luck!) I’ve also added the memory foam mat on the floor, because all the standing takes it’s toll. If you don’t have one of these in the studio, get thee to thy computer, and order one. They are heaven.

Well, then, back to work! I have a data set to download, and some paper cutting to do!

I’ve been hard at work in the studio. Here is a look at a larger piece in progress, and some small pieces lined up. The small pieces were a challenge for me (they are 8″ x 10″), because I really prefer to work larger. I think my paintings are generally more successful on a large scale, but this time around I tried approaching the small work a little differently. I treated each as if it were a small, experimental piece of jewelry. I found that taking this approach naturally adjusted the scale that I worked at, and kept me from trying to jam in too much imagery, a common problem for me when I try to work small. These six pieces will be available at Hang Gallery in December.

Here’s another view of my studio work table…

This is something I often do, especially when I am trying something new. I’ll find a way to “mock up” the next element in a painting. This is especially valuable to me because when I start a painting, I only have a vague idea of where I want it to go, and often it takes me someplace completely different. And because I’m always working in transparencies, allowing each layer to show as I build the image, it is especially important to me that I respond to the image by adding each layer in the most aware, informed way possible. By trying out different elements before adding them to the painting, I can be a little more efficient, and often this process leads to innovations that I may not have thought of otherwise. It also allows me to make little adjustments, sometimes minute, that make a big difference in the compositions. These yellow circles may or may not be added- I haven’t decided yet.